


Closer

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealous Bellamy, Seductive Clarke, Smut, So whatever that means to you, Step-siblings, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 04:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Kink Meme 2019 Prompt: Bellamy hears Clarke crying one night after coming home from a date with Finn. He goes to see what's wrong. Clarke says it was awful, so Bellamy shows her how it can be good. Pleeeease write me jealous possessive Bellamy hating that someone else had Clarke first.BP for slight age gap (16/17 year old Clarke and Bellamy home from college)DBP if parents are home so they have to be super quietTBP if Clarke can't stop whimpering because it's so good





	1. Chapter 1

Bellamy's halfway across the landing on his way to the bathroom when he hears it. Muffled sobs at first that start to climb higher and louder until her cries are nearly guttural. At first he tries to ignore it, but the sound can be heard even over the splashing of the shower's steady hum when he turns it on. Shit, he thinks. He'd just gotten back from playing mindless video games with Miller - summer break did have its advantages - and smoking out on the back porch after their long day of hard labor helping build a new house in Alie's Cove - summer break also had its pitfalls.   
  
But his stepmother Abby had insisted on the job, "Bellamy, honey, it'll be good for you to make some money before you go back for junior year. And what are you going to do around here anyway all summer? Sit by the pool? That's a waste." His father was no help either - he was too busy making doe eyes at his wife and reiterating key words from her speech like "responsibility" and "becoming a man" while nodding at him sternly from behind his beard. The guy was so whipped. Of course his privileged princess step sister got to spend her long, sunny days drinking iced tea and painting landscapes in her private art studio. Don't get him started.   
  
Right. So that's how he found himself with his shoulders aching and in desperate need of a shower but pushing toward Clarke's cracked door instead. Now he wishes he would've flirted more with Miller's neighbor Roma tonight when she'd propped herself up on the porch railing and dug her toe into his calf playfully. At least he could have gotten a stress-relief fuck out of his system before returning to the salt mines tomorrow.   
  
He wraps his knuckles against Clarke's door. "Princess," he calls. "I'm sure you're having an earth-shaking crisis and all that shit, but can you keep it down? I have to work early tomorrow and want to shower and sleep."   
  
He expects a sharp retort, something along the lines of, "You're such an asshole," or "Go fuck yourself, Bellamy." So it's strange when he doesn't get one. She's only been a part of his life for a few years, but in that short amount of time, she's grown into a very large pain in his ass. She's always correcting him or telling him when his opinions are wrong. As if opinions could be wrong.   
  
Bellamy lightly pushes the door open and finds Clarke in a crumpled heap on her bed surrounded by wadded up white tissues that resemble origami cranes. "Clarke, what happened?" He knows he sounds annoyed. But seriously, there's nothing that can be that bad in a pampered 16-year-old's life to be carrying on like this over summer break.   
  
"Like you fucking care," she says between struggling breaths, finally raising her blonde head to look at him and sitting up. Her face is all red and blotchy. Her makeup is starting to run in fine, black lines down her cheeks. Yet it's her dress that really catches his attention. Army green and sleeveless with a deep V that shows off her generous cleavage. There are small cutouts on the side exposing more of her pale skin, and the damn thing's riding up so high he can practically see between her legs. Jesus.   
  
He clears his throat loudly and looks away. "Well your mom and my dad are downstairs watching a movie, and if they hear you crying like a lunatic, they'll want some answers. So pull your shit together unless you want to answer all their questions." He starts closing the door, but right before it clicks closed, she yells out--  
  
"It's Finn! He wanted to... asked me to ..." she splutters, waving her hand, unable to go on. "I thought it would be good, but... it felt... I--"  
  
Bellamy grips the doorknob harder. That asshole with the skater boy hair? He'd literally seen him yesterday making out with a Latina chick in a red tank top outside the bowling alley. He thought Clarke had broken up with him at the end of the school year. His eyes sweep over her once more, taking in her distress. For a reason he doesn't want to explore too closely, he feels his body heating up with rage. He steps back into the room and closes the door behind him.   
  
"Did he hurt you?" he asks quietly.

* * *

Clarke looks away. "No, I mean not really."   
  
"What the hell does that mean?"   
  
He's cracking his knuckles, already imagining pounding into the smarmy face of that rich bastard.   
  
"I mean ... the first time's supposed to hurt, isn't it?"   
  
Bellamy just stands there staring at her, blood pounding in his ears. "You let him..." He can't even finish the sentence.   
  
Clarke is blushing a beautiful shade of scarlet. "I shouldn't have said anything," she mumbles to the hands she's winding together in her lap.   
  
"Clarke," he chokes out her name. It burns like sand leaving his throat. He crouches down on the balls of his feet in front of her, hands warm on her knees and looks at her sniffling. "Did anything happen that you didn't want to happen?"   
  
She blinks at him. A muscle jumps in her thigh.   
  
"No. I ... I did want to try. It's just that--" Her gaze finds her bookshelf, full of strange teen supernatural romances he'll never be able to appreciate.   
  
"What?" he urges. If he leaves now, he might still be able to get MIller to help him find Collins and smash his pretty face.   
  
"...he didn't seem that concerned about me. You know?" Clarke says in a rush. "Like he didn't care if I felt good, and the whole thing was," she shakes her shoulders and he tries not to watch her breasts move. "Kind of painful."   
  
Bellamy scoffs, rising to his feet.   
  
"He's a high school scumbag. He's horny and probably spent more time starting at your chest than listening to anything you were saying. He doesn't give a shit about making you feel good. Or making any girl feel good," he tries to soften the blow.   
  
Clarke's face puckers in anger. She's about to defend him. He knows it. And then--  
  
"You're making him sound horrible! He's not that bad!"   
  
Bellamy lets out a long breath. "He was making out with another girl down by the bowling alley yesterday. I saw him with my own eyes. He's not for you."   
  
He probably should have expected the water works to kick back into high gear again. It still catches him off guard. The sound of her strangled cry like a wounded animal dying in the savanna sends him racing for the tissue box on her desk and hissing at her to shut the fuck up or Abby would be up here any moment.   
  
"Who was it?" Clarke demands through streams of tears. He hands her a tissue and sits down next to her, gently stroking her exposed thigh in an effort to calm her down before he thinks much of it.   
  
"Who was it?" she demands.   
  
"God, I don't know. I don't go to your school."   
  
"Well what did she look like?" Clarke pushes him on the shoulder like any idiot could at least supply that information.   
  
"I don't know," he repeats, raking a hand through his messy curls. "Skin more like mine, long brown hair in a ponytail, average height, thin. She looked athletic."   
  
"Raven Reyes," Clarke says it like it sounds her death knell, flinging herself down on her back. "His fucking biology lab partner. You're right, Bellamy," she tells the ceiling. "He just saw big breasts when he looked at me, like I'm a blonde bimbo and Raven's so," she sighs. "Smart, you know? She built an actual robot for the science fair last year."   
  
"You're smart,"Bellamy snaps quickly. "You're in 3 AP classes and you've had your art hung at the gallery downtown. That's a huge accomplishment." His blood pressure rises at the thought of Finn treating her like shit. Laughing with some other girl and kissing her right out in the open where all their friends could see. It's humiliating, no doubt. "Hey, I'm sorry for what I said before. Don't listen to me. You were with Finn for a while, and I'm sure he liked a ton of things about you."   
  
"Yeah, my hips and my ass, too," Clarke hisses.   
  
"Clarke--"  
  
"No, you're right," she sits back up. "I'm an idiot. I gave my virginity away to a loser, and now I'll never get it back."   
  
The words do something very sudden and profound to his insides. They twist and writhe.   
  
"I should've waited," she mumbles. "I wanted it to be--" She stops, catching herself and blushing up her neck.   
  
"What?" He leans a little closer, stroking just an inch higher along her thigh but feeling gratified by her shiver. He's got to get himself together. He can smell the dried sweat on his skin. He needs a shower, to clear his head, to get out of this room. "What were you going to say?"   
  
"Do you think I’m pretty, Bellamy?"


	2. Chapter 2

His face softens at the anguish in hers. Yeah, he thinks she's fucking gorgeous. He has to actively avoid looking at her in her little sleep shorts or tight tank tops so he won't get hard.   
  
"You know you're attractive," he settles on.   
  
"Then why isn't it enough if I'm attractive and passably smart and--" she wiggles her hand through the air to mime painting, "creative?"   
  
Then her blue eyes open wide as she sits back up. He drops his hand when she looks down at it. "It's because I'm a bitch."   
  
He laughs at that. "You're not a bitch, Clarke."   
  
She raises both eyebrows at him. "Most of the time," he amends, and she purses her lips.   
  
"Then why?" she whines, face returning to her hands.   
  
"Because he's an immature asshole who just wants to get his dick wet," Bellamy spits. The urge to grab his car keys and cruise their town's weekend hangouts just so he can beat up the little shit in an alley returns in full force.   
  
"It's not about you, Clarke." He stops breathing for a moment as those baby blues take him in so earnestly, drinking up everything he's saying. "You're--" He gives her a half-smile, still sort of hating himself for admitting it. But as much as she can piss him off (eating his cereal, taking his car out for a joyride with her friends), she's also been his biggest cheerleader. She's the damn reason he's in college right now, the main one who believed in him and his dream of running an education nonprofit one day. "Perfect."   
  
She smiles at him for real. It makes her look angelic. Then she's leaping into his lap to squeeze him around his neck, crushing her breasts into his chest and making him nearly swallow his tongue as she holds him and holds him and holds him. Her thighs bracket his, and he can smell her flowery perfume.   
  
"Thanks, Bell. Sometimes you don't suck so much."   
  
He laughs drily, tries to stay calm. It happens so quickly. She pulls back, and her innocent hand brushes along the erection starting to spring to life from having her pussy so close.   
  
Clarke looks down at it, lips parting in an "O" before gazing back up at him. The silence stretches so long he thinks maybe he's dreaming this.   
  
"Can you show me?" she finally whispers.   
  
His dick? No, he definitely can't. There's got to be laws saying he can't. His head spins.   
  
"What do you mean?" His tone drops an octave.   
  
She bites her lip and slips off his lap but stays right beside him, fingers stroking at his forearm and playing with the dark hair there. It's honestly just making his dick situation worse now that he can see the swells of her tits straight down her dress.   
  
"It wasn't good with Finn," Clarke swallows hard. She reaches up to push one of his black curls behind his ear and rubs her thumb over a tendon of his neck before drawing back. He might burst into flames. "I know," she blushes again. "Well, I _think_ you'd be better at it."   
  
She's totally lost her goddamn mind.  
  
"We can't."   
  
"Why not?" she pouts.   
  
"Because we're related." He needs to be the voice of reason here.   
  
"Not really. You're not my actual brother." She places the flat of her palm on his abs and rubs a small circle there. "I see the way you look at me sometimes, Bell," she murmurs. He's dying, dying a slow and very painful death. "I know you'd make me feel good."   
  
He'd make her feel fantastic. But that's not the point.   
  
Clarke ignores his inner angst and presses a kiss to his shoulder before raising up on her knees to leave one on his jawbone. Tendrils of heat spiral all over his body like sharp needles. Her lips tickle his ear lobe.   
  
"Show me how it can be good."

* * *

He growls, grabbing her waist and flipping her onto her back so fast that he knocks the breath out of her.   
  
"You shouldn't ask for things you don't really want," he warns her.   
  
"But I've wanted you for two years," she murmurs, playing with the silky hair at the back of his neck before tilting her head up to brush her lips to his carefully where he leans over her. It's nothing but sweet but still sends electricity pulsing through his body.   
  
He slides fully on top of her petite body, reaching down to slide her dress up a few more inches so he can hook her knee around his waist. Bellamy rocks his hips into her, nice and slow. She gasps at the feel of his rough pants against the soft cloth protecting her pussy. He presses his mouth to the edge of the V of her dress, leaving a path of kisses there that ends at her neck where he sucks a bruise so thoroughly she screeches, and he has to slide a hand over her mouth to silence her.   
  
"I'll make it good for you, Princess," he promises. He watches a small shudder roll through her at the new way the old nickname sounds with satisfaction.  
  
His thumbs rub over her nipples through the stretchy cloth before one of his hands coasts lower to slip toward her panties. Bellamy grins when she spreads her legs open wider for him.   
  
"You actually do want this, don't you, baby?" he asks, pushing some of the blonde hair off her forehead.   
  
"Shut up," she shoves her palms into his chest before fisting the fabric of his old T-shirt and using the leverage to draw his mouth to hers.   
  
He glides his tongue over hers, intent on just tasting her sweetness for a little while. She seems just as lazy about it, content to nibble at his lips and catch his cheeks between her palms to kiss his freckles.   
  
Eventually, Bellamy draws back to pull off his T-shirt and slip off his pants.   
  
"Did he use a condom?" He hates having to ask as he returns to the bed, but the question is bouncing around in his brain.   
  
"Yeah," she admits, looking away again.   
  
"Are you on the pill, baby?" He strokes circles to her stomach with his thumb to emphasize that he's not upset with her.   
  
"Mhmm," she murmurs.   
  
"Then," he swallows thickly. Damn, this is so reckless. He knows better than this. "Do you mind if I don't wear one?"   
  
Clarke sits up and unzips the long zipper down the side of dress, pushing it away from her body. She's only wearing a sticky cup bra that solely covers the area around her aureolas. She bites her lip and shakes her head no to his question.   
  
"Good," he says. "Nobody comes in your pussy but me."   
  
"Mmm," she moans her approval, pulling him closer by the arm until he's back on top of her, one knee between her legs as she ruts her hips up against his thigh in search of friction.   
  
Bellamy slips his fingers down over her stomach, squeezing the tiny roll of fat there just to hear her yelp before ducking them into the thin lace of her panties. Just as she's expected. She's warm and wet already. He plays at her clit, circling it teasingly and bending it from side to side before flirting with the idea of sticking two fingers inside her. He settles for just pushing the tips in when he watches her forehead crinkle appear.   
  
"Feels so good," Clarke babbles with her eyes half closed, lost in wonderland.   
  
He chuckles, then takes to sliding his calloused fingertips up and down her legs and the flesh of her ass. He molds her there - not really enough to hurt, but enough to make her spine arch up off the bed.   
  
"This was an interesting choice," he murmurs to her when his hands coast over her makeshift bra.   
  
"Peel it off."   
  
"Very bossy, Princess," he scolds.   
  
"Don't you want to suck my nipples?" she asks him as if it's the most normal question in the world.   
  
"After you pull my boxers down and wrap your lips around my cock," he says, more for the effect than anything else. It's instant. Her pupils widen to midnight black, and she goes very still.   
  
"Hurry up, baby. I'm not exactly comfortable right now."   
  
She scurries forward on her knees and helps him out of his boxers, eyeing his thick, pink cock with great interest as it rises to meet her.


	3. Chapter 3

She licks the head tentatively, and the sensation makes him want to convulse. He nods her toward the floor instead, and she crawls in between his legs without having to be told, sucking his leaking head into her mouth.   
  
"That feels amazing," Bellamy praises her, hands tangling in her mane of hair.   
  
He's a bit longer than average and doesn't want her to choke, but he still rocks his hips toward the back of her throat because ... this feels too good to stop. He doesn't expect her to deep throat him, so he's more than pleased when more than half his cock finds a way into her welcoming throat. She watches him with big eyes and strokes up his thigh with her free hand, finally reaching his fingers and tangling them together with hers as he reminds her to "Breathe through your nose, Clarke. You're doing such a good job. You're so good at this."   
  
Carefully, he lifts the adhesion of her bra from her right tit and then her left one, rubbing his pointer against the sides of her nipples to make her jolt. There's a mild tingling building up in his spine. He has to stop this now.   
  
"Ok, back up here." She releases him with a bit of drool spilling out of her mouth that she laps up with the back of her hand. Damn, she's picking up on all this so fast. He pats his lap and she climbs into it, leaving his dick behind them.  
  
"Will you touch me now?" she asks softly.   
  
"Yeah, baby," he tells her with a small smile. "I'm gonna touch you."   
  
He lifts up her breast with one hand and leans in to suckle at it, slipping the free one past her thatch of hair and into the slick of her pussy. She wiggles on his invading fingers but he just nibbles around her tit, flicking at the strawberry gumdrop in the middle until she softens enough to let his fingers slide deep inside. She's probably still sore from earlier, but he's not concerned with that as much as a better person might be. He left better person far behind when he decided it was acceptable to fuck his step sister.   
  
He rubs abrasively at her inner wall, dragging the pads of his index and middle fingers higher and higher until he finds the soft sponge. Touching it makes her cry out, but he catches the sound with his mouth. He sloshes his fingers in and out strategically for a minute.   
  
"Look down there and see your tiny pussy taking my big fingers, baby," he whispers into the side of her blonde head. She does watch, enraptured.   
  
And when she moans his name, a broken "Bellamy" he hears for pressing his thumb into her clit back and forth a few times fast, he knows he'll never make it much longer.   
  
So he pushes her back down on the bed and slides on top of her belly, sucking so tightly on the pulse point of her neck she leaves scratch marks eight inches long across his back.   
  
"Gotta be quiet, Princess. Behave for me. Mom and Dad are right downstairs. We don't want them to find my nasty fingers sliding into your pretty pussy, do we?"   
  
She starts clenching around him then, pulling him deeper inside. He kisses her to push the energy of it all somewhere, sliding his tongue back into her mouth and letting her sway upward into his body a few times before he holds her down.   
  
"Feels amazing .... amazing," she chants.   
  
"I want to fuck you now," he tells her.   
  
"Please."   
  
She leans up on her elbows to watch his cock breach her entrance, hissing sharply at the stretch and sting. He starts slow and gentle with her, just wanting her tits to shake a little at the impact of his thrusts. But as he reaches the place where her hymen should be and isn't, he feels his anger bubbling inside him again, all sweltering lava and steam. Until before long, he's pumping into her harshly and completely, and she's repeating "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes" as her body tightens.   
  
"You're mine," he tells her, staring right into her eyes as he moves above her.  
  
"Yours," she repeats, nodding fervently.   
  
"I'm gonna pump my come into your pussy to show you who it belongs to," he gasps right before he starts to explode. He doesn't even know who the hell he is he's so wrapped up in her.    
  
She's keyed up enough to let him collapse onto her when he's done, though her legs twitch and her lungs ache for air.

* * *

When he gets up to leave, searching for the boxers he flung onto the floor, Clarke rises with him. She wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her bare breasts into his back.   
  
"I want to do it again," she tells him before leaving a kiss at the middle of his spine.   
  
He turns around, choking back a laugh. "You're cute," he offers, pressing his hand to her pussy and giving it an affectionate pat.   
  
But just as he's about to draw it away, Clarke catches his wrist and holds it there, so he can feel the small stream of his come leaking out of her. "I'm serious."   
  
His eyes flash up to hers, dark and wanting.   
  
"We can't. This was a one-time thing."   
  
"Why?"   
  
His eyebrows hike half up his forehead.   
  
"Because it's fucking wrong, Clarke. That's why."   
  
She steps closer to him, pressing herself into his chest.   
  
"It can't be wrong if it's you."   
  
Is it possible his dick is actually getting hard again?   
  
"You're gonna kill me, Princess," he sighs, shoulders deflating. She's got her arms around his waist now, chin on his sternum, blinking up at him with fluttering eyelashes.   
  
"Pleeeaasseeee," she draws it out like a child.   
  
"Fuck," Bellamy drags a hand over his face. "What do you mean? Right now?" His voice cracks skeptically.   
  
"Yeah. Soon," she nods happily. "Just let me clean up."   
  
"Aren't you..." he searches for the tactful word. "Tired?"   
  
She pinches his ass unexpectedly. "I want you to give it to me rough again. I liked that."   
  
It's decided then. She fell to the Earth from Mars because this can't be real.   
  
"Fine, fine," he agrees at last. "Get some normal clothes on and let me shower. We can ... maybe go for a drive somewhere?"   
  
"Works for me," Clarke tells him breezily.   
  
Half an hour later, she's following him down the stairs, trying to keep a respectable distance between them.   
  
"Hey, dad! Abby!" Bellamy stands in the doorway to the cozy living room tucked away at the back end of the house. "Is it all right if Clarke and I go out for some ice cream? We won't be late."   
  
"Don't you have work tomorrow?" His father asks.   
  
"Yeah, I do, but ..."  
  
"It's just that we haven't seen each other much this summer, and you know Bell's away all year," Clarke comes to his rescue, smiling brightly and stepping into the space beside him. It makes his insides too warm.   
  
"Oh, Marcus, let them go," Abby lays her hand on her husband's. "It's the summer. They should be able to live a little."   
  
His eyes flick between them but he can't seem to find anything to comment on. "Ok, have fun," he concedes. "Be back by 11."   
  
When they're back in the hallway, Clarke slips her hand inside Bellamy's. He squeezes her fingers, and she grins.    
  
Abby picks up the remote to resume the crime show they'd been watching. "It's really great the kids are getting along better, isn't it, dear?"


End file.
